


two wrongs don't make us right away

by j_gabrielle



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, I am just tagging, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Self esteem issues?, Soft!Erik, Tumblr Ask Fic, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 17:56:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13816431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_gabrielle/pseuds/j_gabrielle
Summary: For harukathedarkangel on Tumblr who asked for "Would you be willing to write something that really, really angsty but has a happy ending? I love your fluffy fic, and I love some angsty fic of them in AO3, but sometimes angst with happy ending is the best? "Originally posted here





	two wrongs don't make us right away

**Author's Note:**

> Renata has done the Russian translation and can be found [here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/6582712)

[A/N: I made it that there is only one ring in this *hand wavy* verse. Angst with happy endings are the bomb.com]

Erik sees the way T’Challa looks at Nakia, and how she looks at him in return. Those gathered sigh at the sight of them dancing together in the middle of the dance floor. Their gazes are fixed on each other, and Erik can barely breath at the way T’Challa leans over to whisper in her ear, his hand on the middle of her back.

Holding her so tenderly.

The way he held him.

The emotions at his throat threaten to choke him. So he turns, slipping away to the edges of the crowd before it could best him

Perhaps it was better this way. Those happy endings in fairytales could have never happened for people like him. Erik’s too broken. Too jagged, too much blood on his hands to risk sullying someone like T’Challa.

His feet finds him rushing down the corridors to where his quarters are. Erik had remembered the way his heart trilled when T’Challa told him that he loved him, felt it in the way the King said it, showed it, breathed it. Tonight was supposed to be Erik’s formal introduction into Wakandan society. He had been so happy to finally have some place to belong to.

Erik chokes back on a sob. Tears running down his face, dripping down the front of his tunic. He can’t stay, not like this.

He isn’t stupid. He knows that Nakia and T’Challa have history together. The woman was a wonder and T’Challa could do with someone like her by his side. As Queen. ‘Something you can never be’, a traitorous voice says in his head. T’Challa loves him, Erik doesn’t doubt it. But it might come to a point where it is his love for Erik against his love for Wakanda, for the stability and continuation of the royal lineage. Erik doesn’t want to make him choose.

Blindly, he makes a grab for the knapsack he keeps stashed in back of the closet. He goes to the dresser, grabbing the ring he keeps on a chain of gold. T’Challa’s father’s ring. Erik holds the ring in the palm of his hand, tears blurring his sight. No, he can’t take this. Leave it behind.

With great reluctance, he sets it back on the wood surface when he hears T’Challa calling his name from the other side of the door.  
“Erik? Erik, I know you’re in there.” T’Challa says, “Erik, can I come in?”

Looking down at the knapsack in his hand, he barely has time to form his mouth round a syllable before T’Challa opens the door. His eyes look at his face and at the knapsack. Closing the door, he goes to Erik, face carefully blank. “Care to tell me why you have the air of someone trying to run away?”

“Because I was?” Erik admits, shaking his head, he turns away. “Because you can’t be with me.”

“And who says that?” T’Challa coaxes him to relinquish the knapsack. Gently, because T’Challa is so very wonderfully gentle with him, so very much soft and unlike the cruelties of the world, gently, he pulls him closer by his elbow. “Tell me, my love.”

“You shouldn’t call me that.” Erik whispers wetly, even as he allows himself to be pressed against T’Challa. Sniffling, he resigns himself to the warmth of the King’s body.

“And who says that I should call you that?”

T’Challa has his hands on the small of his back, stroking soothing circles. “No one.” Erik lets his head fall to T’Challa’s shoulder.

“So, why? I turned from my dance to see you gone and when I find you, you have all the appearances of a runaway in the midst of happening.” T’Challa turns his lips to kiss at the shell of Erik’s ear. “Please tell me what goes on in that funny head of yours.”

Erik moves his arms around T’Challa’s strong shoulders, shaking now. “You should be with Nakia. She would make a great Queen. She could give you children, she isn’t... Marred. Like I am.”

  
Pulling away, the King regards him in shock. “I don’t want Nakia. I want you. I love you. Or have I not shown that clearly enough? I don’t want anyone else. It’s just you for me.” T’Challa frowns. Twisting, he reaches for his father’s ring. “I was going to ask you to marry me tonight.” The chain jangles in his hand. Erik is breathless, eyes wide and looking back and forth between T’Challa and the ring. “But perhaps, we will need to work on us first?”

Erik, numb with shock, jerks his head at that. Swallowing, he blinks. “You would wait for me?”

“I would’ve waited forever for you.” T’Challa smiles. “You’re worth it.”

Erik ducks his head, allowing T’Challa to dry the fresh tears on his face. “Do you just want to go to bed?”

Erik nods, letting T’Challa lead him to his rooms on the other side of the hall. Just as they toe their shoes off, he wraps his hand over T’Challa’s wrist. “For the record, I would have said yes.”

T’Challa grins, leaning over to kiss his lips. “I’ll take that as a ringing endorsement for future efforts.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can leave me some moodboard requests [Here](http://hardheartshere.tumblr.com/ask) or you can leave me some fic requests [Here](http://randomingoftherandomness.tumblr.com/ask)


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